


maybe we fit

by hoppnhorn



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Billy Hargrove is Alive, Blow Jobs, Confessions, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoppnhorn/pseuds/hoppnhorn
Summary: Steve debates just leaving, because Billy hadn’t beenthrilledto see him last time. But then he’s noting Billy’s lack of a warm coat and the way he’s curled into himself on the ground as he sucks on the end of his smoke.He looks decidedlyfreezing, and Steve can’t help it. He blames Dustin and Nancy and all those brats. He’s asofty.He walks up to him before he’s figured out what exactly he’s doing.There’s not much left in his repertoire exceptheyand that’s the same fuckinglamething he’d said last time. So he’s ready to say something stupid like,supwhen Billy’s voice breaks the cold silence like thunder.“I don’t do chit chat, so get lost.”Steve really wonders, sometimes, why he eventries.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Original Male Character(s), Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington
Comments: 14
Kudos: 375
Collections: Harringrove for RAICES





	maybe we fit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missroserose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/missroserose/gifts).



> To say I struggled with writing this would be an understatement. I hit a very long dry spell and this is TERRIBLY late. But I have nearly doubled the 2.5K owed so I hope that makes up for my tardiness. So so sorry missroserose. I hope you enjoy!

It’s almost fall when Steve sees Billy again. Funny, in the way that life tends to do that. Line up neatly in a row. Two years, almost to the day, and their paths collide.

And they’re entirely different people. 

Steve isn’t dating Nancy and ignoring the reality of things, and Billy isn’t the new kid with a loud car and tight jeans. In fact, Billy isn’t loud in any sense of the word. 

Billy is a silent hero, of sorts, who hides in his house and doesn’t venture out.

At least, not until  _ that night. _

Steve’s dropping Dustin off at the arcade before his shift at Family Video, and he sees Max talking through the driver’s side window of a truck. A smile on her face. When she waves and starts towards the arcade, linking arms with Lucas on the sidewalk, Steve finally sees the cherry of a cigarette in the dark truck interior. 

Billy. For the first time in months. 

Steve feels like he’s looking at a memory, watching the faint outline of Billy’s face glow in the car as he inhales, then exhales out into the night. 

He doesn’t really think about going over but he’s pulling his keys from the ignition and getting out anyway. 

He doesn’t consider that Billy might not  _ want _ to see him. 

That doesn’t stop him from crossing the parking lot and giving a thoroughly  _ dorky _ wave when he approaches. Sort of like a warning before he gets too close, maybe, so Billy has a chance to retreat should he choose. Which, he obviously doesn’t, because he’s still smoking away when Steve gets to the driver’s side window. 

He wants to have something smooth to say. Something  _ cool _ . What comes out is just, 

“Hey.” 

Billy doesn’t look at him, at first, but sort of grunts some kind of similar noise towards the windshield instead. Then his eyes flicker down, like he’s nervous. 

A new look on Billy. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” Steve continues, because he’s actually,  _ genuinely _ glad to see Billy  _ not _ covered in black goo and drooling the stuff all over himself. Or screaming in an ambulance as Owens’s men took him away. 

His last images of Billy were things of nightmares and he’s happy to replace them with the sight of Billy now, smoking in a shitty truck, eyes shadowed and teeth worrying his bottom lip. 

“Don’t have a car anymore.” Billy grumbles. “Can’t really  _ go _ anywhere, can I?” 

That makes Steve flinch, because there’s  _ guilt _ deep in his gut. Guilt for slamming into Billy’s car and like,  _ being happy about it _ . 

He’d been so relieved when he’d felt the impact of Billy’s car solidly against the hood of the Toddfather. Because it meant  _ maybe  _ Nancy wasn’t dead.

And it meant Billy might be. 

“Look, about that.” He says, rubbing the palm of his hand with a thumb. Pressing  _ hard _ . “I’m sorry—”

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Billy snaps, his eyes sharp when they  _ finally  _ meet Steve’s in the dark. “No one wants you to be sorry.” 

And with that, he brings the truck to life, ripping the transmission into drive while Steve all but  _ jumps _ away from the car. 

Then Billy’s nothing but tail lights, fading into the night.

  
  
  


They put a jazzercise studio in the vacant space behind the Family Video. One minute, they have an empty space to shoot the shit and use as a “break room” and now they have to use the broom closet Family Video provides for “breaks.” Their building buddies don’t just move in, they insist on painting the staff bathroom with goofy shapes and  _ fun colors _ and, apparently, building a mirror so large it takes two hours to piece together. Steve watches them unload the glass from a truck, carry it inside the little storefront to install it  _ loudly _ on the walls. All so middle-aged women can watch themselves as they make  _ fools _ of themselves.

Apparently being a bad dancer is the new fitness rage. Enough that the place went up only  _ weeks _ after the mall closed down. 

And Steve thinks it’s so  _ lame _ at first. He can hear the music from the back room and every time he walks out to his car, he can see the ladies going apeshit inside. The guy who teaches the class is always at the front, rocking his hips like he’s John Travolta or something. 

Which, clearly, he’s  _ not _ .

Steve’s seen Grease. He  _ knows _ Travolta. 

The weird instructor isn’t as lean as Travolta, and his hair is too long and blond. More  _ beach bum _ than tall, dark and handsome Travolta. And Steve doesn’t get what the ladies see in him, because they  _ clearly _ see something. 

They flock to his class in freaking  _ droves _ , giddy in their leg warmers and neon tights. 

Yet he can’t help himself. He always glances over at the studio to see what lame moves the instructor has for the day. 

That’s how he catches the guy looking at himself in the mirror one morning. Steve’s just arrived to open the store, yawning over a fresh cup of coffee and he sees the instructor waving his first class goodbye, smiling like a huge dope. It’s barely  _ seven _ but the herd of women are glowing as they disperse. 

For a second, Steve just sips his coffee in his car, wondering if maybe he’s being too  _ mean _ about the whole leotard thing. Maybe it’s a genius way to get  _ laid _ . 

But then the guy takes a walk by the massive mirror on the wall. Stops. Leans in close to fiddle with his hair. Turns. 

Then fucking  _ grabs _ his own ass. 

Steve narrowly misses spilling scalding coffee down his front as he witnesses the guy giving himself a firm _ grope _ before he saunters off to the back. 

The guy’s name is  _ Mark _ . 

It’s a rather vanilla name for a man who wears magenta. But that’s the name on his membership card when he saunters through the back room entrance, like he  _ owns _ the place, and rents a copy of some movie about Buns. 

“Gotta keep the steel sharp.” He comments with a wink. 

And Steve...really doesn’t know what that means. 

  
  
  


A week later, Steve’s closing down the store and it’s  _ cold _ , more so than it’s been for a while and he’s very ready to be home in the heat when he sees a familiar shape. 

A  _ body _ would be more accurate. But thinking  _ that _ feels a little strange when there’s a name to go with the errant curls and hard cloud of cigarette smoke lingering in the air. Billy, sitting on the curb outside the jazzercise studio well after midnight. 

Steve debates just leaving, because Billy hadn’t been  _ thrilled _ to see him last time. But then he’s noting Billy’s lack of a warm coat and the way he’s curled into himself on the ground as he sucks on the end of his smoke. 

He looks decidedly  _ freezing _ , and Steve can’t help it. He blames Dustin and Nancy and all those brats. He’s a  _ softy _ . 

He walks up to him before he’s figured out what exactly he’s doing. 

There’s not much left in his repertoire except  _ hey _ and that’s the same fucking  _ lame _ thing he’d said last time. So he’s ready to say something stupid like,  _ sup _ when Billy’s voice breaks the cold silence like thunder. 

“I don’t do chit chat, so get lost.” 

Steve really wonders, sometimes, why he even  _ tries _ . 

“Noted.” He huffs into the air. 

That’s when Billy looks up, and his eyes flare with surprise and his shoulders lower. 

“Shit.” He grumbles, tossing his butt aside. “What do  _ you _ want, Harrington?” 

“Well, definitely not going to chit chat.” He snaps, just a little hurt and a lot  _ annoyed _ and Billy laughs. Soft. Through his nose. 

“I didn’t mean you.” He murmurs, his eyes evasive, avoiding Steve’s face at all costs. “Just the pervy instructor.” 

“Ah.” Steve looks around at the really  _ empty _ parking lot. “Um.” Shuffling from one foot to the other, he watches Billy smoke, debates saying  _ bye _ and calling it a night. 

Instead, he says, “Why hang out here then?” and chances shuffling to Billy’s side, sitting on the curb. It’s fucking _cold_ through his jeans and he winces, rocks his weight around to try and get some _blood_ _flow_ to his buttcheeks. 

“Was gonna see if you had a copy of Debbie Does Dallas.” Billy says with a smirk. “But then I forgot it’s a  _ Family _ Video.” 

It’s a line, and Steve knows it, but he doesn’t pry. Doesn’t mention that Billy has circles under his eyes.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” He says instead, hoping for a smile. Or something other than a scowl. Billy arches a brow at him and Steve shrugs, plays it cool. “But we’re getting in that Back to the Future movie soon. And even when I was high on Russian truth serum, I thought it was pretty good.” 

Billy snorts. 

Then lets out a true laugh. 

“You’re fucking weird, Harrington.” He shakes his head, some of his short curls shaking at his nape. “Russian truth serum.” 

“Wouldn’t recommend  _ that _ stuff, however.” Steve grimaces. “Worst hangover ever.” 

  
  
  


Steve ends up driving Billy home. After chit chatting through three cigarettes.

  
  
  


The next time, Billy’s waiting for him against his car. Like he’s been waiting all night, his nose red against the cold.

“Looking for a good time?” He calls out, eyes bright in the neon strip and Steve’s laugh echoes in the empty lot. 

“Don’t know what constitutes a good time—“ He starts, but Billy holds out the cigarette, except it’s not a cigarette, it’s a  _ joint _ in his hand, eyebrow cocked with a smirk. 

“This good enough for you?” 

Steve plucks the thing from his fingers and sucks with utter delight on the only weed he’s had in  _ months _ . He and Tommy don’t talk anymore and Jonathan fucking  _ moved _ . Besides, he’s not about to go trolling around town for a weed hookup.

He holds the smoke in for a long while, enough that Billy is nodding when he exhales. Impressed.

“Didn’t think you had it in you, Harrington.” He pokes, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a hit. Billy licks his lips when he hands it back and Steve tracks it without even meaning to. Billy always did have a  _ mouth _ , in more ways than one.

“Tommy’s cousin started selling to us back in  _ middle school _ .” Steve brags. And Billy snorts.

“ _ Tommy _ .” He takes a hit before he continues, passes it back. “That fucker bought oregano off some idiot at a Metallica concert last year.” 

Steve can’t help but cough himself silly as he laughs his ass off. He probably looks stupid. And he’s definitely  _ high _ , so he hands the joint over and leans against the BMW. 

“And he always called  _ me  _ dumb.” He says softly, staring up at the stars, pleasantly humming inside. Billy stubs out the joint, lights a cigarette instead.

“Nah, you’re not.” 

Steve wants to ask him  _ what that means _ , wants to know a lot of things and they swarm like bees against his tongue. Antsy and furious. When he meets Billy’s eye he seems to sense it. Or maybe it’s the pot.

“Tell me about breaking into a Russian base.” 

Steve grunts, lets his gaze fall away.

“ _ Robin _ figured out the code and the plan and I just sort of  _ supervised _ .”

Really, he was just grateful to have something to  _ do _ . At the time.

“Robin.” Billy repeats. Steve nods. “She your girlfriend?” 

Steve lets out a good cackle before he remembers that people don’t  _ know _ Robin like he does, so he coughs. Shakes his head.

“I’m not her type.” 

Billy arches a brow.

“King Steve? Not her type?” 

Steve shakes his head again, pops his lips on a loud  _ nope _ while Billy stares.

“Trust me, we’re just friends.” He thinks for a moment, considers. “My best friend.” 

Billy pulls hard on his cigarette before he shrugs. Pleased with the answer, maybe. He’s looser around the eyes when he nudges Steve on the car.

“Come on, Harrington. Offer me a ride already, it’s late.” 

  
  


“What color is Mark wearing today?” Robin blurts one afternoon, dumping what looks like the entirety of her _ earthly belongings _ on the counter. She’s still wearing the t-shirt from marching band practice and there’s at least two more outfits in the pile she’s deposited in front of him. Along with her uniform. And lunch.

“Did you clean out your locker?” He asks, eyeballing a binder. Three different textbooks. 

“My backpack zipper bit it, shut up.” She snaps her fingers in his face. “What  _ color _ ?” 

“Aqua.” Steve says, bored. “We crossed paths in the back hall and he called me  _ Kevin _ .”

Robin snorts. “I’m pretty sure that’s what he calls Keith so.” Somehow, being lumped into the same group as  _ Keith _ doesn’t make him feel better. “My mom says he’s great with their names.” 

Steve rolls his eyes. 

“Your mom’s name is Jo.” He mutters, shoving a tape into a rewinder. “Somehow I don’t think he’s struggling to remember it.”

  
  
  


It’s his third time closing alone when it happens. And by  _ it _ , well. 

It wasn’t monsters or tunnels underground or anything so  _ dramatic _ but it rocked Steve’s neat little evening off the tracks. 

Taking out the trash for the night, he’d noticed that there was a car besides his own in the lot and that wasn’t  _ normal _ . No one goes to Family Video on a Thursday after ten, max. And yet there’s a car parked in front of the Jazzercise place and Steve’s pretty sure  _ that’s _ not normal either. 

The classes end around five and Mark always doesn’t stick around  _ usually _ . Hindsight being what it was, he probably shouldn’t have cared so much. But this is  _ Hawkins _ and he’s learned that being alert can come in handy. Picking up on details can save your skin.

Turns out, missing this little detail would have been  _ fine _ . Maybe even preferred. 

Because he winds up standing outside the dance studio, peering into the dark building with a bag of trash in one hand. Stuck. Unable to run or move or hell, think. 

Watching as Mark’s bare ass flexes on display. In front of a  _ man _ , Steve notices, but like. He can’t see  _ who _ ; the guy is on his knees as Mark thrusts into his face. Getting blown on one of the silly mats ladies spend all day  _ prancing _ on. 

Steve is at half mast by the time he realizes he’s been standing there, watching like a peeping tom, with a hand pressed to his crotch. 

Sue him, it’s fucking  _ hot _ . 

Filthy, really, the way Mark is watching himself in the mirrored wall, preening as he gets off on, well. His own goddamn face. 

Steve is sort of getting off on it too. Not  _ Mark _ , per se. But the whole thing. The pants around ankles, dark studio  _ drama _ of it all. It’s probably some married man, closeted and so desperate for decent sex he’s was willing to do  _ this _ with a sweaty jazzercise instructor. Hell, Steve’s got a bat in his pants. 

Then Mark’s grabbing the guy by the hair, tilting his head back as he thrusts faster. 

And the guy’s face comes into view. 

Steve nearly smacks into the window when he recognizes  _ Billy  _ in the studio, eyes hooded and mouth stretched wide. He can’t  _ hear _ the noises Billy’s making but he can see Mark panting at his reflection. 

Steve can’t help but notice that Billy’s eyes are tearing up, sparking in the low light. He looks up with wide eyes and gags for attention  _ literally _ , not even touching himself.

Mark can’t be bothered to notice and Steve can’t goddamn  _ breathe _ . 

  
  
  


“Billy’s gay.” He blurts the next day, just as Robin is stumbling from the backroom for her shift. She blinks at him, makes a face, then snorts. 

“What makes you think that?” She asks, sceptical  _ sure _ but not ready to call him an  _ idiot _ . If anyone knows about hiding sexual preference, it’s Robin.

“He and Mark—” Steve’s throat closes up with memories in his head. Memories he took home with him and thought about -- several times. “I saw them last night.”

“Huh.” Robin says quietly, almost to herself. And Steve snorts. 

“Just ‘huh’? This is  _ Billy _ .”

“He’s also the only guy in Hawkins with his ear pierced.” Robin says evenly. “And his jeans were always so  _ tight _ —”

“Are you saying it doesn’t surprise you?” 

“Not really?” She shrugs. “But Mark is...ew.” She grimaces, a reaction Steve can actually understand. “He could do better.”

  
  
  


When Billy shows up after his shift a few days later, Steve almost avoids him. Almost. His face is hot when he meets Billy’s eyes and he fucking  _ trips  _ like a doofus as he walks over. 

“Busy?” Billy asks, as if he doesn’t know Steve’s schedule is pretty bare after closing. He snorts, the sarcasm coming easy when he says,  _ “swamped” _ . Billy’s grinning with a cigarette in his teeth as he yanks open the passenger door on Steve’s car, not even asking before he sits inside. 

  
  
  


The quarry isn’t any different from the last time they were there, but something about it  _ now _ makes Steve squirm as he sits in his car in the quiet. The eerie stillness and the fact that Billy smells like cologne and smoke. 

He can’t stop thinking about how he’d looked in that mirror. 

Open, wanting. 

“Earth to Harrington.” Billy says, louder than necessary and Steve whacks his elbow into the door startling in his seat. There’s a lit cigarette in Billy’s fingers, an offering, and Steve wipes his face to feign exhaustion before he takes it. “You’re out of it.”

“Long day,” he mutters, pulling hard on the fresh smoke until his lungs burn. “And the fucking music from next door gives me headaches.”

Billy snorts. 

“Stupidest excuse for exercise.” He perches his cigarette in his lips and pins his hands under his armpits, flapping his arms like a chicken. “Feel the burn you fat mothers.” He flaps until Steve can’t help but cackle. It’s  _ ridiculous _ , but it’s the first time he’s seen Billy act like a  _ dork _ . It’s  _ light _ and silly and, for a moment, Steve forgets to be awkward. 

“He’s such a—”

Then his throat closes up around his air, doesn’t let him finish the thought.

_ Loser _ . Or whatever word he was going to use. Asshole maybe. But then he’s remembering the way Billy’s been on his knees and well.

He sucks on his cigarette and shakes his head. Plays it off. 

But Billy’s watching. Close now, eyes sharp. His hands fall from his pits to his sides, and he casually leans back in the seat. 

“A what?” he asks. 

Steve shrugs, finding a tree to stare at out the window. 

“Pick something,” he mutters. “He’s a whole lot.” 

“Fuck.” Billy snorts, smoke around his head as he laughs. “You’ve been dethroned too long, Harrington. You don’t know how to throw a punch.” 

Steve glances at him, shrugs again, wonders how far he can wade in. 

“He’s an ass.” He says noncommittally. Billy lifts his eyebrows and Steve plunges in, head first. “I mean, he forgets my name constantly. He’s always calling me  _ Kevin _ and then he’ll call Keith the same thing and  _ I don’t look like Keith _ .” He flaps his hands, heat filling his cheeks again. Remembering the mirror. Remembering Billy’s eyes. “He struts around all full of himself and sweet talks all these women who are  _ married _ like he has something to prove, trying to get them swooning over him. It’s  _ gross _ . He even hits on  _ Robin _ and she’s still in school!” He huffs. Puffs. 

Way too worked up.

“Easy killer.” Billy grins. “I was just sayin—”

“He’s  _ not good _ .” Steve nearly shouts. And Billy frowns, blinking. “He’s a jerk, Billy.”

There’s too much silence before Billy takes the cigarette from his lips. “Okay,” he says carefully. “Good to know.” His voice is cautious, a warning of sorts. And a weight settles on Steve’s chest, pushing him under. 

“He’s not good for  _ you _ ,” he whispers. 

Billy is stiller than the air around the car, the only movement in his body the rise and fall of his body as he breathes. In. Slowly out. 

Keeping himself calm.

It seems like they sit for years in a stalemate, the car filling with cigarette smoke. 

“Please don’t cut my balls off.” Steve eventually breathes into the silence.

Billy’s lip twitches, like he’s caught between a laugh and a snarl. 

“What the hell does that mean, Harrington?” he says slowly, calculated. “He’s not  _ good for me _ ?” 

“He doesn’t know what you’ve been through, or  _ care _ , probably. He’s just using—”

“Why would he need to care about me?” Billy nearly yells. “Huh?” Steve’s shaking when he stubs out his cigarette. Palms sweaty.

“I saw you.” He closes his eyes, voice unsteady. This very well could be the last time Billy  _ speaks  _ to him so he forces words from his lips. “I was taking out the garbage and I wondered why Mark was still parked out front and I  _ glanced _ in the window thinking maybe he’d be doing something stupid like  _ staring at himself _ or whatever. But.” 

His throat closes again. 

Billy isn’t breathing anymore, his face red and eyes shining. Frightened. Steve spits out more words before he can think of what to say. 

“He doesn’t know you and he won’t give you what you need. And one-sided relationships don’t work, it can’t work, and it hurts even more the longer you let it go and I just….” His voice cracks a little and he thinks about Nancy. 

_ Bullshit _ . 

“You just what?” Billy whispers. 

Steve looks at him when he says, “I just don’t want him to hurt you.” 

The car goes quiet again, until seconds stretch into agonizing minutes. Nothing but breathing and cold. 

“He picked me up at a club in Indianapolis months ago. Before…July.” Billy says softly. “He’s a fucking jackass, but he kept buying me drinks...calling me gorgeous so,” he shrugs. “He was local so we kept meeting up.” Billy shifts in his seat, sniffling as he stubs out his cigarette. “But I don’t  _ like _ him. Not like that.” 

Steve lets out a breath, sinks into his seat. 

“Thank god.” 

Billy snorts, meeting his eye for the first time during his confession. “I just told you I’m  _ a fag _ and you’re saying  _ thank god _ ?” 

“I don’t care that you’re gay.” Steve points out. “I mean  _ I care _ but I don’t  _ mind _ and I mean, Mark’s a fucking dick.” He smiles when Billy laughs. “You could do better.” 

“Oh yeah?” Billy snorts, shaking his curls. “I had to drive to fucking  _ Indianapolis _ to get laid, Harrington. My options were  _ limited _ .” 

Heart in his throat, Steve clutches the seat under him. “Maybe, they’re not.” 

Billy’s smile slowly fades, his eyes unblinking. Steve’s done this enough times, with girls, that he knows the look, knows the moment a girl is putty in his hands.

Billy’s lips part when Steve leans a little closer, just enough that his motive is clear. 

“You have options.” 

It’s a little kiss, gentler than necessary, part of him still suspecting that at any moment Billy will rear back and sock him in the jaw. 

But when Billy gives under him, exhales ragged into his mouth and kisses back  _ hard _ , Steve isn’t the least bit worried about a punch. He leans clean over the middle of the car, expertly grasping the side of Billy’s neck to hold him close, focus his attention on his bottom lip, licking across his top when Billy sighs.

It’s a delicious sound, one he is eager to elicit again and again. 

“Steve,” Billy moans against his mouth. “Wait.” Pulling away is  _ hard _ for both of them. Billy’s mouth is rosy and a little puffy and Steve nibbles on his lip, tempted to lean in and do it all again. “You’re not gay.” Billy states gently. Not  _ angry _ but confused.

“Pretty sure wanting to kiss you isn’t straight.” Steve blurts. “Or getting harder than granite watching you with Mark.” 

Billy’s face goes from confused to embarrassed to somewhere between smug and  _ mischievous _ . 

“You liked watching?” He asks, hiding a grin. “You’re a  _ perv _ , Harrington.”

“I liked seeing you.” Steve says, heat in his gut, a growl in his voice. “I liked watching  _ you _ .” 

When Billy lunges after him, there’s hunger in his kiss. Fierce and fiery, he licks into Steve’s mouth and hums with satisfaction. 

But being in the front seat of a car isn’t great for making out, and Steve can already feel his neck protesting the awkward angle. Billy must feel the same, because he shoots away and yanks open the passenger door without warning, whispering, “come over here.” 

Not that Steve needed instructions. He’s hopelessly hooked on Billy’s taste, his voice, his touch. He’d follow him off the edge of the world. 

But Billy only makes him go as far as the passenger’s side, grabbing him by the waist to kiss him soundly against the car. It’s better than before, if possible, with their legs slotted together and bodies pressed in close. 

“Your girlfriend isn’t treating you right, sweetheart.” Billy breathes against his lip, one hand deviously stroking at Steve’s tented jeans. It feels so  _ good  _ and Steve can’t help but whimper from the touch. 

“Would you stop with that.?” He whispers, kissing Billy quickly. “Robin’s not into dick, okay?” 

The understanding on Billy’s face makes Steve laugh. 

“No shit.” He says quietly, a smile slowly spreading. “Buckley is a lesbo?” 

“Yeah. Now can we...” Steve grunts, grabbing Billy’s suddenly still hand. “We’re in the middle of something.” 

“Eager, huh?” Billy is practically glowing when he ducks his head, finding a spot on Steve’s neck to kiss. Then lick.  _ Suck _ . 

Steve shudders against the car, a breathy sigh escaping him like a wheeze. 

It’s been a  _ while _ .

“Fuck.” Billy suddenly growls, his hand pulling away as they both look down. Steve blushes when he sees the dark spot growing on his jeans. “You’re wet.” 

“Sorry, it’s just—“ Steve attempts to explain but Billy’s mouth cuts him off clean with a bruising kiss. 

“It’s fucking  _ hot _ .” He growls. Then gently he touches his fly, eyes fixed on Steve’s face. “Can I take care of you?” 

The question all but finishes Steve off right then and there. 

“I mean, yeah. Sure.” He stutters, his heart galloping in his ears while Billy unzips his jeans, kneeling down onto the gravel. 

He makes a sort of noise as Billy pulls his pants down, a sort of whine, and Billy looks up. Grins. 

“I’ve got you, Harrington. Just relax.” 

His boxers follow his jeans and Steve is panting hard when his cock bobs free, the cool air against his hot skin. Billy grips him firmly around the root of his dick, leans in to kiss his length. Lap at him.

Steve focuses on keeping his knees from buckling under his weight. 

Billy sucks the head of his cock, taking his time, before he’s sliding more of Steve’s length into his mouth. His throat. Steve can’t  _ breathe _ when Billy gags on him, easing back to do it again. 

“Feels so good,” Steve wheezes, his hands fluttering from Billy’s hair to his shoulders to his face. Billy moves at a steady rhythm, unrelenting, eyes latched onto Steve’s as he goes. It’s  _ intense _ . More than anything that Steve can recall with anyone else. Even Nancy, who he’d once considered the love of his life. 

No, he can’t even remember what her touch felt like when Billy is on him, swallowing so sure when he takes Steve all the way. 

“Billy, ah—” He manages to whimper before his body goes rigid and an orgasm has his legs shaking. It lasts forever, each beat of his heart so hard he sees spots. 

Billy just waits, cleaning up his chin with the back of his hand, a grin on his face. 

“It’s been a while, huh?” He says, smug as hell, and Steve knows he should be insulted. But. 

He’s really not. 

  
  
  


“Let me take you out.” Steve says later, his limbs loose and heavy as he sits in his backseat, Billy’s body radiating warmth in the tiny car. 

Billy’s hair is  _ everywhere _ but he looks sexier than Steve ever imagined. Even with a confused frown appearing on his face. 

“A date?” He asks, then snorts. “Harrington, did I suck your brain out of your dick? This is  _ Hawkins _ .” 

Steve bats at Billy’s jaw, laughs when Billy looks even more  _ scandalized _ . 

“Two friends can’t go to a movie and dinner?” He asks. “Because last I checked, it’s no one’s business if two friends want to go to a movie and eat together.”

Billy swallows and his cheeks pink, so beautiful even in the dark. 

“I guess.” 

“And then, if they like, they can go somewhere private.” Steve says softly. “Can be more than just friends.” Billy’s neck flushes pink too, a delightful discovery that Steve commits to memory. Just like his taste. 

“I bet you say that to all your dates, King Steve.” Billy whispers with a smirk. Like he’s not already  _ won _ . 

“No one but you.” Steve purrs. So smooth, so  _ practiced _ . “What’s it gonna be, Hargrove?” 

Billy’s nodding when Steve crawls into his lap and seals their smiles. 


End file.
